Thro' alleys strait, ourselves arrest within
An ancient haven's stirring liberties:
Whose foreign semblance, and amphibious gear,
And wild outlandish groups, betoken'd straight,
That at this mark, England with alien realms,
Touch'd, and in broken converse join'd the hand.
And 'mid the skurry of a bee-hive toil,
And din of driving labour, creak of ropes,
And oary stretch upon the heaving deep,
The gallant prow we gain'd, that was to prove
Our festal home, 'mid storm and vent'rous waves,
And fix some thousand leagues of friendly brine,
Us, and the cark of tortious foes betwixt.*
Causeless delay meanwhile, and stop appear'd
The mode; few words were interchanged with those
Companions of our sad and hopeless fate;
And heavy heart wore vacant look, prolong'd
Intense to abstract fixedness and gloom.
But fiercely broke by fits, with malcontent
Disquiet, and fervent ardourt to be gone:
And stifled murmurs at the cloudless sky,
And lazy zephyr, languish'd all away.
King and Bishops, and penal laws against toleration.
Lest they be intercepted by an order of Council.
But sportive childhood reckt not frets like these.
Methinks our gentle Richard* still I view
In sunbeam of the deck leant tranquilly,
With eyes that did outazure the pale skies,
Survey the sheet hung idly by the mast;
His sprightlier comrade† hobbied on the helm,
The roughton'd seaman's mignionet and friend.
Whilst our loquacious menials whispering prate
Of perils of the far and raging seas:
Of dolphins, mermaids, monsters of the main,
And yet more startling chances of the shore,
Across atlantic billows, wreck of ship
On friendless coasts, and gloomy rivers choak'd
Of thorny thicket, where the native wretch
In starv❜ling cave crouches; where lions lurk,
And all the woodland shudders at the howl.
"Twas sad to view the last farewell of love,
And cruel sunder of inwoven hearts
That would not twain. The reckless sob and wail
Of bosom-bursted females; and austere
And bitter look of high and harden'd men,
That all averted, leant upon the side,
* Her brother, afterwards Protector.
+ Henry Cromwell, Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, of a more energetic character than Richard.
Unbidden moisture of the eye to choke,
Or watch the bubbles float the ocean tide,
That might them of the brittle frame remind
Of sublunary bliss. An artless maid,
Scarce fourteen summers old, thus plain'd of one,
Whom in her singleness of mind she lov'd,
In strains that sometimes chime upon my thought,
Tho' years have worn the half-forgotten theme.
The Maiden's complaint of the Emigrant.
Why wilt thou row away, and rend
From my swol'n breast thy throbbing heart?
Alas! if I unclasp my hand,
And sob thy full set sail depart,
I doom that I shall never strain
Thy palm, nor tell thy heart beat more.
Then, meet not the pernicious main,
To couch where tameless monsters roar.
Full kindly smiles my mother's cot,
Lurking beneath the castle grey :
Return, I'll choose thee for my lot,
Nurse thee, and never say thee nay.
I'll stir the fire for thee: all day
For thee I'll raise the spindle's hum ;
I'll strew the floor with leaves, and stay
Within, and watch while thou dost come.
Filberts I'll hoard. When thou art faint,
Thy barb'rous overtoil I'll breast:
I'll tune thee sonnets, and will chant
The psalm thou lovest, ere thou rest.
I'll lull thee on my knees, my tress
Shall brace thy neck, and round thee twine : When thou art pale, I'll thee caress
All night by fire gloom; nor repine.
Ah, wouldst thou die, thy breath I'll catch
At mirkest noon of sorrow's pride :
And long before the morning watch
I'll droop, and still me by thy side.
And sweetly shall we rest, nor brook
Changes, nor ever more shall part.—
Then stay, and turn that long, last look,
That wastes poor Isabella's heart!
Alas! Young stricken Fawn :-yea, had our Liege
Witness'd our personality and woe,
The buttress'd purpose of his stern decrees
Strain'd by such deluge of collective rills,
Had yielded to the soft, and passion'd flood
Of subject's tears; but that the mitred kings*
Propp'd his designs to stay their sovereignty.
Now, had I at the hour thou speak'st of, left
In chase of liberty, Old England's strand,
And with her fled to leafy wilds, or where
On polar ice, pil'd to the wintry heavens,
The houseless bear outraves the flickering storm;
By writ and brief estopp'd,† my path stemm'd up,
I must relapse, and wage the battle proud
Of iron fate: 'twas womanish to wail,
And heaven's hand, by methods dread and strange,
Upheld amain my unattempted march.
None can the sifting woes of war rehearse,
* Churchmen. + He was arrested by order of the King.
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